Looking for Tomorrow
by Roque Amadi
Summary: Snape/OFC. Set in 1984; Snape is 24 years old. When he discovers a student's secret, will he expose her and ruin her ambitions, or will he help her?


Thanks for checking out my new fic! I haven't written HP before but this story sprang to mind recently when I was re-watching the films. I checked on the HP wiki and realised that Snape started teaching at Hogwarts when he was only 21 years old. So this Snape/OFC story is set just a few years after that. Please R&R, all feedback appreciated! Hope you enjoy.

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"You put a boy in the hospital wing, probably for days. Why?"

Severus stood in Filch's office, looking down at one of his students. She sat in the chair in front of the desk, her arms folded, her chin turned up stubbornly. "Because he's a little swine."

"And I suppose it wasn't possible to use your words instead of your wand?" he asked flatly.

"Maybe you should tell him that."

"He attacked you first?"

"Yeah. But with his other wand." She cocked an eyebrow at him, and for not the first time in his relatively short experience of teaching, he wished he didn't have to deal with older students.

"I see," he replied. The girl, known as Sim, was a Slytherin, so they both knew there would be little or no punishment. As the only Slytherin teacher in the school, he felt the urge to protect his students; they certainly didn't get to experience any favouritism from anywhere else.

"I hear you've applied for the potions academy," he said, electing for a different approach.

She nodded. "They take expressions of interest early. Now they're just waiting for my final N.E.W.T. grade and your endorsement, Sir."

"I'm aware of the requirements," he said dryly; he was, after all, a potions master himself. "And you should know I won't endorse your application unless your performance in seventh year is outstanding."

"Has it ever not been?" she shot back, defiantly.

He allowed a small smirk. "No," he said, "but the final year is difficult. I'm only taking four other students into my N.E.W.T. class this year. And none of those places are guaranteed. For anyone."

Sim wasn't intimidated; she just rolled her eyes. "I understand, Professor," she groaned, clearly impatient for the conversation to be over.

"Very well," he said, gathering his sleeve to reach for the door handle. "Have a pleasant summer."

He held the door for her, and she hauled her bag up over her shoulder and walked out. As she passed by, he added, "Oh, and ten points from Slytherin."

She winced. "Fair enough. See you next term, Sir."

The summer passed slowly, the same as it did every year since he started teaching. It was 1984, and next term would mark his third year of employment at Hogwarts. He submitted his usual application for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but with less rigour than usual. There was clearly no point.

He gradually came out of his haze of waiting for time to pass while he was watching the sorting. A fresh batch of young Slytherins were chosen, who would hopefully help to repair the house's reputation. He ran his eyes down the Slytherin table, taking a quick stock of this year's set of students. Towards the back of the table was a blonde girl he didn't recognise at first. After a few moments of watching her, he realised it was Sim, the girl he'd spoken to in Filch's office just three months ago. She looked completely different. She was extremely thin, very pale, and that obstinate, confident air about her had vanished. She sat hunched at the table, pushing food around her plate with a fork. He frowned, and made a note to keep an eye on her.

She didn't improve. He gave her two weeks of classes, waiting for her to buck up on her own, but her spirit and her performance were both severely depleted, and she didn't seem to be improving. Reluctantly, he decided it was time to do his job as Head of House.

"Ms Reyalus."

He had just dismissed the small seventh-year class, and the girl cringed slightly and halted halfway out the door, then turned reluctantly. The other students filed out, their voices disappearing down the corridor.

He held up the vial of Shrinking Solution she'd just submitted for review. "This is unacceptable."

She raised her chin stubbornly, but didn't reply.

"The worst part," he continued, "is that it's not an error of skill. I can only conclude that you didn't bother to read the instructions. If you really care so little for this class then I'll thank you not to return."

He paused. "I had thought, with your career ambitions…"

To his horror, he saw a brief shimmer of tears welling in her eyes, but she blinked them away quickly and dropped her gaze to the ground, muttering something he didn't catch.

"Speak up, girl," he said, impatient.

"I _said_ , I couldn't read the instructions."

Severus frowned. "What do you mean, you couldn't read the instructions?" he scoffed, eyeing her. That was when he noticed something. He took several quick steps over to her, and she backed up a step instinctively, hitting the wall behind her. He put a hand to her face and pulled down her eyelid, carefully examining the colour underneath her bloodshot brown eyes. He pulled out his wand, and she stood frozen, staring at him as he murmured an incantation, testing the reaction under her eyelid carefully. After several seconds, he let her go, and stepped back. She blinked a few times, but still didn't speak, watching him defiantly.

"Who did that?" he finally asked, quietly.

"Did what?"

"Don't play dumb. Which house were they in? Was it another Slytherin?"

She swallowed, focussing on the floor. "It… didn't happen at school."

The pieces fell together for him. Although everyone called her Sim, her name was Simonette Reyalus. Her family was quite respected amongst Death Eaters, although her parents weren't Death Eaters themselves. They were members of a different cult, one that had continued despite the downfall of the Dark Lord, one that had approached Severus a few times in the last few years: he knew them only as the Brotherhood. Sim had probably just come of age this summer, and something had happened. He didn't have any desire to know the details.

He cleared his throat to keep his voice steady. He was somewhat surprised at how angry this made him feel. "This is the third week of term," he said quietly, "and you're still experiencing after effects from that curse." He took a step in her direction. "We're going to Madame Pomfrey. Now."

"No!"

He raised a hand to grab her arm and haul her up to the hospital wing, but she quickly dodged past him, backing across the classroom, away from the door. "I can't."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I can't have anything like that on my record. You think the academy won't find out? They pull everyone's complete school records, and you don't get in unless it's perfect. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. The amount of times I've almost-" she cut herself off.

"How long has this been happening?"

She refused to answer. She stood with her arms folded on the other side of the classroom, hunched up. He didn't need a verbal answer - he already had an idea of what type of people her parents were. Now he knew for sure.

Finally, she took a deep breath. "Look, Professor, I'll be better next week, I'm sure of it. And I'll redo all the potions from the first three weeks. Just… please don't tell anyone."

Severus sighed. "You'll be better next week, will you?" he asked dryly.

"Yep." She nodded. "Usually I'm good by week four."

He winced. There were so many things he could say right now. He elected to focus on the situation at hand.

"Resistance to dark curses tends to decrease, not increase, from prolonged exposure. Your eyesight will be poor for weeks yet, without treatment."

The girl deflated slightly. "Well, I'll… I'll redo all those classes. Once it's better."

"Don't be ridiculous."

He drew his wand again and summoned several items from the storeroom, stepping over to the closest student workstation and rapidly filling the small cauldron with water and bringing it to an instant boil. With several flicks of his wand, he prepared and added precise amounts of several ingredients.

"Sit," he instructed, and the girl sank into the nearest chair. He watched her out of the corner of his eye while he worked. She looked worse than he'd first noticed. He considered discussing the issue with her other teachers - surely her performance in every class must be poor - but quickly dismissed the idea. Her potions grade was the only one that truly mattered to the academy, so it wasn't worth betraying her confidence. Besides, she was a Slytherin.

After a few minutes, he siphoned the mixture into an eyedropper and stalked over to her.

"Tilt your head back. Further, girl."

"It's Sim," she muttered, but tilted her head. Once again, he pulled her eyelid down, more gently this time, and squeezed several drops of the mixture onto the sickly pink-coloured skin between the lid and her eye.

"Keep them open," he murmured, concentrating. The pale pink colour immediately became slightly flushed, and he stepped back, satisfied.

She sat up, blinking rapidly and dabbing the excess on her sleeve. After a minute, she looked up at him. "It feels better," she said, slightly disbelieving.

He pointed to the front of the classroom. "Can you read the board?"

She squinted. "No."

"It will take several treatments. Come back tomorrow morning." He turned to the workstation to clear away the mess. She got to her feet slowly.

"Professor… You don't have to-"

"Off with you, girl, I have another class to prepare for."

She swallowed, and gathered her things, heading out the door quickly without another word.

Once she left, he straightened, and cleared the mess away with a single wave of his hand. He flicked the dungeon door closed behind her, and took a moment to scrub his hands down his face. If he told any of the other teachers, he would ruin her future. If he didn't, and it was later discovered that he didn't disclose his suspicion that a student was suffering from abuse, he would probably ruin his own future. But, he was very conscious that he was the only Slytherin teacher at the school - there was no other reason someone as young as him would be made Head of House - and if he didn't watch out for the Slytherin students, no one else would.

Ultimately, it was unlikely anyone would find out. He hoped.

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Thanks for reading, those who made it this far! Please let me know what you thought. I have most of this story planned out, so I'll try to update quickly.


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